Broken
by fandombloggingaddict
Summary: The Governor visits the prison at night and exacts revenge on Daryl, the man that scorned him. After enduring extreme physical and mental torture, will he be able to reconnect or will he be lost forever? (Pretty dark stuff. Hard whump followed by moderate fluff followed by more whump. Poor Dixon never catches a break. I suggest you watch the trailer for Dead*Line first.)


**A/N: I know the format is all hecked up but I started this at midnight and it is currently 6am so this is what you're getting. You know if it's a Walking Dead fic it's gotta be Daryl whump. Surprisingly little profanity and hopefully absent grammar errors in here. Please enjoy.**

**Warnings: This is pretty dark at points, especially the end. Trigger warnings for torture and possibly suicide. The end is sorta left to the imagination. No smut, some fluff (don't worry, the fluff is very temporary hehehe)**

Daryl was curious about how quickly the group fell asleep, but he wasn't complaining. These days some peace and quiet were rare and precious. Usually he had to try to sleep with Judith crying or walkers moaning in the backround. Now he drifted off into a deep sleep on the matress on his "perch" over the cell block.  
Suddenly Daryl was dragged up by a firm arm around his neck, choking as he was pulled up to someone's chest. The man leaned down to whisper in the hunter's ear, "Hello, Dixon. Ready to pay for your crimes?" Daryl's last thought before passing out was, "The fuck is the Governor doing here?"  
He woke up tied upright to a cell door by rope tightly wound around his wrists, ankles, waist and neck. His neck was bound so he could hardly breathe. The Governor stood in front of him, admiring his bare chest. "Tell me, how'd you get all those scars?" Daryl growled. He had plenty of memories from bearing torture; some were tangible and visible. Like hell he was gonna amuse this sick bastard.  
Philip frowned. "Let me guess. Maybe it was your father? I hear he favored whipping and beating his sons." He smiled at the anger and shock apparent on the Dixon's face. "Don't look so shocked. Merle was my lieutenant; I had to know what kind of a man he was. He talked about you an awful lot." He touched the discoloration on Daryl's wrists from handcuffs. "Perhaps it was your time with a certain guard in prison?" That was the last straw; he pulled at the ropes viciously. "Now, now. Don't lash out at me for what other men have done to you. You'll have enough reason to hate me after tonight. Although... you're probably still harbouring some anger from what I did to your brother." He huffed heartily. "You would not believe how easily his fingers came off! He wasn't quite as tough as he liked to seem. After all, he was the one that ended up a biter." He outright laughed as Daryl went red with rage.  
"You... bastard, I'll f-... fuckin' kill ya!" His strangled threat took taxing effort. The Governor changed in the blink of an eye, rushing up and throwing a fist into his gut. Daryl's breath was knocked out and he wheezed as the hits continued to land on his torso. After a few minutes, Philip calmed down. He pulled his bowie knife from its sheath and held it to Daryl's chest. As he began to gradually carve into the skin, the hunter's breath hitched. The Governor cut short, deep gashes into his captive.  
"You will learn..." An especially long slice elicited a spluttering groan, "to show some respect." He plunged the blade into the Dixon's right shoulder and Philip watched his face contort in pain. His wrists began to bleed from the chafing of the ropes as he endlessly tried to escape the pain. The Governor grabbed a fistful of that wild brown hair and forced Daryl's head back, enjoying his moans as he twisted the knife with a sickening squelch. "You hunters like to trust your instincts, but look what it gets you. When you're hit you lean forward, only to get strangled by the rope. When you're panicked you strain your wrists, and they bleed. As a prideful Dixon you disrespect me and give me attitude, and I have to punish you. It's time to reevaluate everything you know. Nobody's ever protected you and nobody ever will. You have to stop trusting people, Daryl. You trusted Merle to protect you at home, but he left you. You trusted that prison guard to help you, but he did the opposite. You honestly believed you'd ever be safe once you'd scorned me?" He leaned his whole body in and growled, "You were never safe and you never will be. When we're through tonight, I will watch you. I'll return and hurt you again, and again, and again. Your pain will never end. Soon your only thoughts will be how much pain you're in, your only words will be your pleads for mercy. And that's the last thing you'll ever get." He stepped back, pulling out the bloody knife. Wiping it off on Daryl's pants, he picked up his next tool of torture. A blowtorch. "Those wounds look pretty bad. I'll do you a favor and cauterize them. My treat." He approached Daryl, ignoring his glare. "I'll keep it on low since I don't wanna boil your blood and roast your organs. Yet." He turned it on and held it to each cut. Philip was impressed that Daryl could refrain from throwing up at the smell of his own burning flesh. When he finished with the stabbed shoulder, the Governor noted the returning defiance in his victim's eyes.  
"Rick w-... won't... let this g-... go." Daryl warned quietly.  
"Wow," Philip shook his head in disbelief, "that's what I call unfounded loyalty. You really think one member of this group cares about you? You're the freak! They're a family, you're just the expendable liability they're too reminicent to abandon. Grimes is a cop; he can lie with the best of them. He only made you his right-hand man to keep an eye on the wayward criminal."  
"They... care 'bout me..." He squeezed his eyes shut in annoyance at his inability to speek clearly. "He'll pr-... protect m-me."  
The Governor punched Daryl in the jaw. "What did I tell you? No one can protect you, you're never safe! Listen to me, you stupid, pathetic, inbred scum." He grabbed Daryl tightly by the neck, completely cutting off his air. "You will not tell ANYONE that I did this. You will not say a word, ya hear? I will feed you your fingers if you do. And when you refuse to tell them who terrorized the group, they will do anything to feel safe. They will hurt you for what you know. Rick's got two kids, he'll be first in line to interrogate you. They'll plot behing your back. You are never, ever safe." He released his deathgrip and Daryl gasped frantically, hardly able to draw breath. Daryl decided to think his actions through. If he kept acting instinctively, he might not survive. If he continued to anger this man, he'd slaughter him without a second thought. What had kept him alive his whole life could now lead to his death.  
The Governor a car battery and wires from the corner. He turned it on to test, touched the frayed wire ends, and sparks illuminated his twisted sneer. The torturer came back to Daryl. "I will not stop until you beg me to." Not leaving room for resistance he held the wires to Daryl's hips.  
What resulted could hardly be called a scream. His throat was partially cut off by the restraints so the sound was harsh and strangled. He was somehow able to swallow the yell to hold in the agony, but this took concentration too precious to waste. After a painfully long time Philip pulled the wires away. "How did that feel?" At the silence received, he shrugged and reapplied the electric current. Daryl's muscles seized harshly and his body jerked as much as it could in the ropes. Seeing it coming, though, allowed him to prepare to stay silent.  
This continued for the next hour before he was too weak to take it anymore. After the twentieth electrocution, Daryl cried out in panic and defeat before the dread fire could course his body again. "No, w-..." A violent spasm rode through his nerves. "Wait, please... s-... stop-p, please..." He hung his head in shame.  
"There you go, Daryl. You learned well. Your instinct was to stubbornly defy me, but in the end you gave in. That's good. See, you're still here, and the pain stopped." Daryl could only nod in relief.  
"Just one more thing to learn tonight, then you can finally rest." He held the wires to Daryl's hips and laughed at the jerking form and choked wail. "I like to see you squirm."  
After a long drawn-out session of electrocution, the Governor put the battery away and cut Daryl's bindings. The lean hunter crumpled to the ground, shivering and jerking. Philip grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged the writhing body out and over to the stairs to the first floor. "I'll be back soon." He kneeled down and spoke to Daryl's face. "What did I teach you about your 'friends'?"  
Daryl shuddered. "Never s-safe."  
"Very good." He stood and roughly kicked the man, sending him tumbling down the stairs.

Daryl heard voices and knew he should wake up, but a nagging feeling told him that people always lead to pain, and it wasn't worth the trouble. Still, he regained consciousness. The voices were heavy with worry and everyone was shouting. Daryl was scared. He knew he did something wrong and he was gonna pay.  
He forced his eyes open, vision blurry, and saw people crowding around him. They were calling his name and talking among themselves. He felt terror rise in the back of his throat and he suddenly needed to get away. A man grabbed his wrist and he panicked.  
"Git away, d-don't touch me!" He tried to crawl away but searing pain shot up his arms. Still, he was able to pull himself backwards enough to startle the crowd into backing away. His vision cleared up a little and he recognized his group. For some reason, he could not feel relieved.  
"Daryl, it's me, Rick. I'm not gonna hurt you, okay?" Rick toward the bloody and bruised man. He was shocked at how Daryl fliched so sharply.  
"No, you can't just... ya gotta... I-I need..."  
"What do ya need, Daryl? How can I help?"  
Daryl tried to steady his breath. "Don't t-touch m-m-me... please, I can't..." He began hyperventilating, eyes shooting around.  
"Daryl, calm down. You need oxygen. No one's gonna hurt you, just breathe." Rick stepped back. He gave his friend a moment but his breaths grew quick and shallow. Hershel hobbled up.  
"Rick, we have to calm him down. He could pass out, and with that head would, he may never wake up." Rick nodded.  
"Listen, Daryl, I'm gonna try to help you breathe, okay? Don't fight me." He snatched the hunter's bloody wrists, lying him back. Holding his wrists above his head to help circulation, Rick restrained the squirming man. "If you don't slow down I'm gonna have to force ya to." Daryl only heard the threats, only saw the determination, only felt the pressure of a body and being held down. His eyes widened as the man covered his mouth and nose, suffocating him. "You're gonna take one breath every three seconds, okay?" Every three seconds he was allowed one deep breath. Eventually his gasps evened out and he was allowed full control of his own airways. Rick slowly released the Dixon who could only lie in pain and confusion, afraid to be held down again.  
Carol kneeled next to him and cupped his chin gently. "Daryl honey, what happened to you?" He closed his eyes as flashbacks to the torture obscured his vision.  
"Was it walkers?" Beth asked meekly.  
Carol nudged him. "Daryl?" He opened his eyes and saw the worry in hers. "Were you bitten or scratched?" Panic returned and he shook his head fervently. If they thought he was sick they'd hate him, they'd kill him! "So it wasn't walkers?" He opened his mouth but suddenly snapped it shut. What it saying no counted as telling? The Governor would come back and hurt him so bad and no one would help and then-  
"Daryl, you gonna hyperventilate again?" Rick asked warningly. Daryl was so scared that his mind shut down and he fell into unconsciousness.  
"Let's get him into a bunk," Hershel sighed. After Glenn and Rick had carried Daryl into Hershel's cell and laid him on the stiff bottom bunk, the vet sat next to the hunter with only Maggie and medical supplies at hand. He'd bandaged his wrists, put ointment and bandages on the cuts and burns, bandaged his head, treated the burns and wrapped the leg broken and shoulder dislocated. He had painkillers but there was no point in giving him these particular drugs if he wasn't awake.  
Rick entered for an update, leaning against the opposite wall. "How is he, Hershel? What happened to him?"  
The old man turned to the former cop and gestured toward Daryl. "Those look like wounds from a walker, Rick?"  
"Well, they certainly aren't your usual accidental injuries."  
"Exactly. This was no accident. Someone did this on purpose. Daryl was tortured."  
Rick ran a hand through his hair. "Tortured? How?"  
"Well," Hershel looked sadly at the unconscious man. "He was tied upright to something, probably a cell door. He tried so hard to escape that the restraints cut deep into his wrists. He's covered in bruises from a ruthless beating. From what I see he was stabbed about ten times, and the cuts were cauterized with fire. There's a large bruise on his neck from a chokehold, and a smaller but much rawer and deeper bruise from what looks like rope. There are webbed burns from constant, high-voltage electrocution on his hips. Finally, and I'm assuming from a fall down the stairs, he has a possibly severe head wound, a dislocated shoulder, and a broken leg."  
Rick felt sick. "How could he be in so much pain and still function?"  
Hershel shook his head in dismay. "That's the other problem. Beneath his wounds and on his back I found scars, lots of them. He's been tortured before. I'm sure he has a high pain tolerance by now." Rick stared at the incapacitated Dixon. "It's a wonder he trusts anyone."

This time Daryl awoke much slower. He felt cloth tightly wrapped around his body and limbs and he didn't like it. When he could open his eyes he saw a woman... Maggie. Maggie was brushing his hair back. He winced and whimpered at his pounding headache, then the sudden return of pain from his numerous injuries. His brow furrowed at her comforting touch. Why wasn't she hurting him?  
"Hi there. You're gonna be just fine, all right? My dad is takin' good care of you. We been takin' turns watchin' over you, the whole group. You're safe now."  
Daryl frowned. Didn't she know? "No. Never safe."  
Maggie looked sad. He got worried; what if she was mad? What if she hurt him? "D-don't... I'm sorry, sorry..." She looked confused now.  
"Shh, Daryl, calm down. Why are you sorry?"  
"I didn't mean to make you angry."  
"I'm not angry. Why do you think that? Why are you scared, hon?"  
He grew distressed. "Don't be mad, don't hurt me. They hurt me when they're angry." He was too stressed to realized he'd said anything about his past.  
"Who hurt you, Daryl? Who did this?"  
He shook his head, pushing down the pain. "Can't, I can't, he'll hurt me again!"  
"All right, it's okay. We won't let him hurt you again. You're safe, you are with friends." She leaned down to kiss his forehead. She didn't see his doubt at her promise. He hardly thought they were his friends, and he knew he was not safe.  
Rick walked in carefully. He saw that the patient was awake and smiled kindly. "Hey Daryl. How're ya doin'?"  
Daryl grew skittish. Men he trusted always hurt him. He remembered the Governor's words. "Rick's got two kids, he'll be first in line to interrogate you." Pain. "They will hurt you for what you know." Pain. "They'll plot behing your back. You are never, ever safe." Rick was bad. But if he made him angry he could hurt him more. Daryl decided to try to be nice.  
"I'm, uh..." He coughed a bit and Maggie readily held a handkerchief to his mouth. She pulled it away with blood stains.  
"Why is he coughing up blood?" Rick grew worried.  
"His throat is torn. I think he..." She looked despondently at the hunter. "He screamed too loud."  
Rick frowned. "Why didn't we hear him?" Maggie shrugged. With that obvious clue, though, Daryl sighed as he realized why no one had saved him. They were drugged. That's why they fell asleep so quickly and all at once. It must've been the food. He didn't eat as often as they did, so he was only weakened, not knocked out.  
"I don't know. We should ask my dad. Somethings not right." She looked at Daryl supspiciously enough to make him uneasy before she left. Did she think he was lying? Maybe she did. She could come back at night and hurt him and no one would know or care and-  
"Daryl?" Rick took Maggie's place. "Are you okay?" He went to hold his hand but the hunter thought he was going to hurt him and panicked. He batted the hand away and attempted to escape the perceived threat. "Woah there, calm down. I'm not gonna hurt you."  
"Stop lying to me!" Daryl yelled. He stopped, paralyzed, realizing what he'd done. "Please, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, Rick, please no..."  
Rick leaped forward and wrapped his arms around Daryl. The hunter expected punishment but he felt no new pain. "Why didn't you..."  
"Daryl, I'm hugging you. See? I'm not hurting you. I'm not angry for whatever you think you did wrong. I just want to help you."  
"But..."  
"Do I sound mad?  
"...No."  
"Am I hurting you?"  
"...No?"  
"Then that's how it is. I don't pretend to know how you feel or what you've been through, but I promise you that I am here for you and I will support you to get better. Is that okay with you?"  
Daryl felt a sob rise. "I..."  
Rick leaned back to see his face. "What?"  
"It's just... no one's ever asked me that. They... no one ever... asked for my permission."  
Rick looked in his eyes and saw the sad sincerity. What had been done to this man to make him revert to a boy?  
"Daryl, Hershel has some pain medication. He can make it hurt less."  
"No, Rick, no drugs, please?" He was desperate. It was bad enough having to live in a prison; if they made him take drugs it'd be too much like the guard that... he couldn't think of it without feeling ill.  
"Are you in pain?" Rick watched his response.  
"I can handle it."  
"You shouldn't have to. You've been through too much to just tough it out, Daryl. It's going to take its toll."  
"Don't try to tell me how to handle pain. I've been through worse, alone. I'll survive."  
Rick was stunned at the sudden calm Daryl showed about pain. He'd seen trauma victims before, but this was new to him. Daryl didn't only have to survive, he had to come out on top and stronger. It was no wonder he'd finally broken.

Daryl wouldn't eat. Rick told him to, Hershel asked him to, Beth implored him. He was too nauseated with pain and too distrustful of the integrity of the food and group to eat. At a certain point, he supposed, someone would give up and just attack him to be done with it. Every day his visitors asked him who his torturer was, but naturally he refused to spill. Finally, after three days of utter refusal to cooperate, Glenn came to visit. Daryl was wary when the Korean used a sheet to conceal to entrance for privacy. It was early in the morning so no one would be awake to help if- no. Daryl was trying to control this thought process. He was trying very hard to trust the group again, against his own best judgement. It was his instinct to trust them. He would not be brainwashed by some sick bastard.  
Glenn turned to face him with a determined expression. He sat on the stool next to the bunk and faced Daryl. Looking down he said, "I'm sure you know how much I love Maggie."  
"...Yes."  
"And you know I would do anything to protect her."  
Daryl's paranoia was returning rapidly; this did not sound good. "I know. Glenn...?"  
"Then you'll understand that I can't let some sadistic psychopath come near her. So you have to tell me who hurt you."  
Daryl frowned. "I can't-"  
"Don't, Daryl. Don't make this hard. It's stupid that you're hiding it anyway." He glared at the hunter. "Don't you know we're scared? Anyone could be the bad guy for all we know. And since you won't tell us, we can't find him and make him pay! Don't you want that revenge?"  
Daryl began slowly trying to sit up for leverage of any kind. "Don't ask this of me."  
Before the Dixon could resist, Glenn stradled him and used rope to tie his wrists to the posts of the bunk. Daryl was speechless with fear. Claustrophobia took hold and he struggled. Glenn punched his face, causing him to still.  
"I don't want to hurt you, Daryl, but I will if you don't tell me what I need to know." At the shake of the man's head, Glenn sighed and pulled a syringe from his pocket. "Did you know that I studied to be a chemist? Trouble is, in one chemistry class we were supposed to create a simple brew. This one kid took the ingredients and created this cocktail that causes temporary, excructiating pain." He shrugged. "He was creative. He gave me some, said 'It's a mad world, you just may need it someday.' Looks like he was right."  
Daryl's eyes widened and he shook his head. "No, no drugs, please don't, not again..."  
Glenn didn't blink. "I don't have to. Just tell me who did it and we can forget all about this. It'll all be over."  
Daryl couldn't accept what was happening as the needle approached his forearm. "Glenn, you can't... no no no, wait, stopdon'tplease-" It pierced his skin and Glenn released the murky cocktail into his bloodstream. Within moments Daryl felt it. His whole body felt like it was being impaled with flaming blades. It consumed him and his mind could only think a stream of pitiful pleads. His vision went white from the white-hot agony. He barely noticed the hand around his neck cutting off his screams and air. He only returned from the torture-induced insanity because of his predominant need to breathe. His vision adjusted to only a slight blur and the ringing in his ears died down. When Glenn saw this he loosened his hold on the hunter.  
"Are you ready to talk now?" He smiled with grim satisfaction as he saw that his former friend was struggling to breathe from the pain and panic. It took a minute for him to calm down.  
"P-please... I-I... please Glenn, please..." Daryl could form no other words.  
"You can't hold me off with pleads, Daryl. A week ago you'd say you're acting like a pussy. You know Merle would beat you for how cowardly you're being." Daryl closed his eyes and hoped that someone would help him. Unless everyone wanted this.  
"You don't... u-und-derstand... I don't want anyone t-to... get hurt..."  
"Then tell me for God's sake! He could hurt any of us! He could come after Carol or Beth or Judith. Do you want that?"  
A tear leaked from Daryl's eye, the first since his brother's death. How could anyone say that? He would give anything to save them. He just didn't believe that they could fight the Governor. If it were one week ago, any one of them may have picked him first to kill him. Now he was a sobbing mess, letting everyone take advantage of him. He was pathetic.  
"There's n-nothing-g I can d-do. He'll always be there to hurt me."  
Glenn switched tactics. "That's right, Daryl. He will always hurt you. You are weak and you are broken. You'll always let down everyone that you care about. The only way you can ever be any good is if you tell me who he is so that you can protect your friends."  
Daryl looked up with teary eyes and nodded. "I can protect them."  
"Yes. Just tell me who he is."  
"He..." Daryl looked at Glenn with trusting eyes. "He's the Governor."  
Realization dawned on the Korean and he got up, standing next to Daryl again. "Now here's how this is gonna work. I'll stay in bed and roll this off my back. I'm going to cut you free and you'll do the same. Today's the day you decide to tell the group. Got it?" Daryl nodded sadly. He was going to pay very dearly for this betrayal but he knew it was the right thing.

When Hershel came in to check on his patient, he noticed his clarity and confidence. "Daryl, what has gotten into you today?"  
He looked at the old man seriously. "I'm ready to say who hurt me. You all deserve to know."  
Hershel was pleasantly surprised. "I'm glad to hear that. Sure you're ready?"  
Daryl nodded solemnly. "It was the Governor."  
Hershel stared.  
He went to Rick immediately.  
The council met (bar one member).  
Daryl felt proud.  
Until the crowd started asking questions. Their sympathy disappeared once they recognized the danger. Rick demanded every detail, no matter how painful. Hershel tried to buffer the verbal attacks but everyone grew more and more riled up. Things were said (and shouted) that Daryl hoped to never hear again. He was especially afraid of Glenn, who did not sympathize at all for his having been tortured at the same man's command. Maybe he was mad because Merle hurt him, but that was nothing compared to what Daryl endured. He didn't understand how everyone could be so angry, until he realized that this was not new. They'd always been mad; they just hid it because they didn't want the guilt of kicking a man already down. Sadly, Glenn had already lost that liability at the hands of a Dixon.  
No one trusted him and he hardly trusted himself. He shouldn't have trusted his instincts. He should have put up with the pain; his cowardice was his weakness, not his past. He knew it was a matter of time before the Governor or the group killed him. His last thought was that he wished he could have been just a little stronger. He'd failed his family and friends. It was only a final feeling of justice in his own death that granted him the only peace he'd ever felt.


End file.
